WhiteCrow
Selective Literate
Aha! A whole load of laundry! On a Sunday! Wasn't she an accomplished adult now? Nevermind that the couch would probably never see the light of day again.. That was a whole load of laundry that conquered the cushions! Jane had been in a.. Funk (Was that what Darcy called it?) Lately, and this, this little human accomplishment of generally not being enormously lazy, lifted her shoulders somewhat. Yes, she could get the laundry done, then maybe clean the window panes, open the curtains and let in the beautiful-- Dreary storm clouds.
Hn.
Well.
At least she felt emboldened with success enough to take on the Land AI issue again. In conversation it always sounded like a simply repaired bug. 'The prototype portals open in the middle of the ocean and pours in sea water. I lost another lab space lease because they're still picking the sea stars out of the carpet. But hey, at least it was fish, and not a whole flock of very irate seagulls.. This time.'
Alright, so maybe it didn't sound simple in conversation. That was usually the point in which the listener stopped, stared for a good minute, and visually reminded themselves that she was a genius. Or, was supposed to be.
It was a bug in the perimeters of the AI, Jane thought, combing back wild hair with distantly focused fingers, twisting the knots to a loose (And frankly disgraceful) bun at the nape of her neck. It just had to be. When she'd developed the AI originally, it was really more Not Air based than Find Land based. So, it did make sense for the program to have found some obviously unintended route and latch to that like, well, a starfish to carpet.
And.. That was all Jane knew on the subject. That something was wrong. Possibly in the perimeters.
She'd been putting off the debugging process for a reason.
"Why couldn't it be a system malfunction.." The brunette complained to homeless project which now took up her entire coffee table (Which was fine, clutter took up the rest of the entire loft, so fair was fair.) "Those are so easy to fix. Satisfying, too, because then I feel like a real--" Crazy woman who talks to herself. She needed to get a pet or something, Jane thought as she turned the device in hand, attaching the diagnostic cables to her laptop.
Maybe a cat, Jane mused as she flipped the laptop open and let the old thing quite honestly (And prolonged) think about if THIS was the time it would finally die off. No, not a cat. It'd starve. Jane figured as she opened the program to ping the AI.
It was harmless, and in truth, Jane didn't think much of it. She'd already taken off the power repeater of the device for diagnostics of it's own (She'd REALLY hoped it was a hardware issue), without it, the prototype simply couldn't fire. Jane didn't exactly make a habit of reality experimentation in a residential area-- The program would run, report the diagnostic record and she could piece through it with a furrowed brow and some coffee.
Coffee..
Maybe Jane was getting a bit addicted, because she was entirely aware how quickly she went to the kitchen to prepare some at the sole thought, cross armed and impatient as the coffee machine brewed, thought, and brewed some more.
Maybe she'd get a fish.
No, the thing would starve too..
Hn.. She could at least get dressed, she supposed, what with all that clean laundry on the couch-- Couldn't stay in a tank top and flannel pants all day, really, and wasn't there a study that found data to correlate improved productivity with dressing in the..
The repeater should have been on the counter right there.
The prototype was active.
"Jane Foster, you completely daft--!" The panicked scientist cursed and turned so quickly that she struck the mug off the counter with her arm, tread over the broken ceramic, and even then did not arrive in time.
Well, she did.
Just in time to see the portal open.
Hn.
Well.
At least she felt emboldened with success enough to take on the Land AI issue again. In conversation it always sounded like a simply repaired bug. 'The prototype portals open in the middle of the ocean and pours in sea water. I lost another lab space lease because they're still picking the sea stars out of the carpet. But hey, at least it was fish, and not a whole flock of very irate seagulls.. This time.'
Alright, so maybe it didn't sound simple in conversation. That was usually the point in which the listener stopped, stared for a good minute, and visually reminded themselves that she was a genius. Or, was supposed to be.
It was a bug in the perimeters of the AI, Jane thought, combing back wild hair with distantly focused fingers, twisting the knots to a loose (And frankly disgraceful) bun at the nape of her neck. It just had to be. When she'd developed the AI originally, it was really more Not Air based than Find Land based. So, it did make sense for the program to have found some obviously unintended route and latch to that like, well, a starfish to carpet.
And.. That was all Jane knew on the subject. That something was wrong. Possibly in the perimeters.
She'd been putting off the debugging process for a reason.
"Why couldn't it be a system malfunction.." The brunette complained to homeless project which now took up her entire coffee table (Which was fine, clutter took up the rest of the entire loft, so fair was fair.) "Those are so easy to fix. Satisfying, too, because then I feel like a real--" Crazy woman who talks to herself. She needed to get a pet or something, Jane thought as she turned the device in hand, attaching the diagnostic cables to her laptop.
Maybe a cat, Jane mused as she flipped the laptop open and let the old thing quite honestly (And prolonged) think about if THIS was the time it would finally die off. No, not a cat. It'd starve. Jane figured as she opened the program to ping the AI.
It was harmless, and in truth, Jane didn't think much of it. She'd already taken off the power repeater of the device for diagnostics of it's own (She'd REALLY hoped it was a hardware issue), without it, the prototype simply couldn't fire. Jane didn't exactly make a habit of reality experimentation in a residential area-- The program would run, report the diagnostic record and she could piece through it with a furrowed brow and some coffee.
Coffee..
Maybe Jane was getting a bit addicted, because she was entirely aware how quickly she went to the kitchen to prepare some at the sole thought, cross armed and impatient as the coffee machine brewed, thought, and brewed some more.
Maybe she'd get a fish.
No, the thing would starve too..
Hn.. She could at least get dressed, she supposed, what with all that clean laundry on the couch-- Couldn't stay in a tank top and flannel pants all day, really, and wasn't there a study that found data to correlate improved productivity with dressing in the..
The repeater should have been on the counter right there.
The prototype was active.
"Jane Foster, you completely daft--!" The panicked scientist cursed and turned so quickly that she struck the mug off the counter with her arm, tread over the broken ceramic, and even then did not arrive in time.
Well, she did.
Just in time to see the portal open.
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